


When dark met light

by ThisBirdWithoutACage



Series: Twisted Tales [1]
Category: Gravity Falls, Over the Garden Wall (Cartoon)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Gods & Goddesses, Beast feels guilty afterwards, Beatrice is sassy, But I don't care, But not for now, Developing Relationship, Everyone's a God pretty much, Forced Bonding, Hades & Persephone myth, I'm Going to Hell, Kidnapping, Later I'll regret writing this, Multi, Pregnancy, Rape, The Beast rules The Unknown, The Unknown is the afterlife, Wirt's father is a jerk, no one likes him
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-17
Updated: 2016-01-17
Packaged: 2018-05-14 11:42:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 17,280
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5742514
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThisBirdWithoutACage/pseuds/ThisBirdWithoutACage
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When he first met the boy, it had been at a party that he had no desire to attend. </p><p>It held no interest to him. That was, until, he spotted the boy.</p><p>He decided right then and there that the boy would be his.</p>
            </blockquote>





	When dark met light

**Author's Note:**

> Well, look at this long ass one shot I managed to write this week. I'm sure you're all thinking, what the hell is this? Well, this darling readers, is a fanfic I started writing earlier this week at three in the morning! I love the Hades and Persephone myth and always wanted to write something like it. I love a Gods AU and this has been shamefully fun to write. Even looking up the poems and quotes for the breaks was fun and they'll be credited and listed below! 
> 
> The characters are probably a little OOC, but I don't really care all too much. This isn't anything special and I do hope you enjoy! Beatrice is my spirit child; my sister watched the show with me and told me I'm exactly like her. I have no idea if that is a good or bad thing XD
> 
> I also need more Poetree fanart! I'd do it myself, but I have the artistic abilities of a stick. I would ask my sister (she's the family artist), but she gives me judgemental looks when she hears my ships T.T she's so cruel, but I love her to death. I do have a little playlist here! The songs I was listening to while writing this!
> 
> Playlist:  
> Cantarella by Hatsune Miku and Kaito  
> Point of no return XD From Phantom of the Opera  
> The mystery of the invisble by Veridia  
> Tag you're it by Melanie Martinez  
> Haunted by Evanescence  
> Music of the night from Phantom of the Opera  
> One way or another by Blondie, but the one I listened to was from Until the ribbon breaks  
> Crazy in Love by Beyonce but I listened to the one by Sofia Karlberg  
> Bad romance by Lady Gaga but again, I listened to the 30 seconds to Mars version  
> Horror of our love by Ludo *don't ask**  
> Paralyzed by Finger eleven  
> Immortals by Fallout Boy

 

_Eyes,_

_Contact,_

_Brief at first,_

_Then a shy smile,_

_As gentle blushes,_

_Tint an ivory mask,_

_Unearthing bygone colors,_

_Long since buried ‘neath fallen stones,_

_A light touch of skin ignites a spark,_

_Tentatively stirring a sleeping heart_

When he first met the boy, it had been at a party that he had no desire to attend.

He only came because of the nagging persistence of his “friend”, Bill Cipher, who for some reason that was beyond him, wanted him to come. “It’s the winter solstice party!” The other God had exclaimed in an albeit obnoxious manner. “Anyone who’s anyone is going to be there! It won’t kill you to go to at least one party of the year!”

He mostly came to shut the insane God up and to see the looks of surprise on the other gods and goddesses’ faces. He did not have very many friends outside his Shadow realm and quite frankly, he preferred to keep it that way. Most of the other immortal beings annoyed him, minus a few who were actually worthy of his presence. Bill Cipher, of all the Gods, was not one of those beings, but for some reason, declared himself his friend anyway.

The party was an absolute waste of time. Yes, he supposed the decorations were nice, although the whole “winter theme,” was a bit tacky. The music was lively and the food adequate enough. He only danced when he felt the desire to and right now, he had no such desire.

“Come on, Beastie!” An unwanted arm slung around his shoulder and he glowered at the owner. Bill Cipher only laughed. “Don’t be a wallflower! Lighten up a little!”

“I advise you to remove your arm from my shoulder,” he spoke in his deep voice, multicolored eyes narrowing at the golden orbs of Bill. “I am not in the mood for your foolish and inane behavior.”

“You wound me, Beastie,” Bill placed a hand over his golden vest, feigning hurt. “Why must you be so cruel?”

“Do you want an answer to that question?”

Bill only rolled his one eye and shook his head. “You’re no fun. It’s no wonder you haven’t found a mate,” Bill chuckled. “That’s your fault though; the immortals here just aren’t up to your standards.”

He ignored the obvious jab and continued to watch the scene before him. He could find a mate; he was a powerful immortal and many had tried to woo him to bonding with them. Or they tried to woo him to have sex with them. Very few of the latter category had succeeded and only a handful of them were in the room at the moment. He was handsome, even the mortals would agree. With sandy blonde hair and a lean, tall figure, he was attractive. His eyes were a mysterious kaleidoscope of colors that easily attracted both immortals and mortals alike.

But alas, he had no interest in them. He had no interest in any of them. That was, until, he spotted the boy.

He couldn’t have been older than a ten year old mortal, yet it was so obvious he was a child. The way he clung to his mother’s hand and eyed the little toddler God dancing in front of him with slight resentment. His hair was a bit messy and a lovely shade of dark oak brown that reminded him of the bark on a tree. He had his mother’s skin tone and eye shape, but he could not distinctly make out the rest of the features since they stood at different sides of the room.

“Oh, something caught your eye?” Bill followed his gaze, letting out a whistle and then snickered. “That’s the only child of Xiāng Líng and Mortimer. The son of a War Goddess and the God of Law and Order; hard to believe that little thing is the son of the King.”

Yes, just looking at the shy and withdrawn boy would make anyone doubt he was the son of their king. Currently, the boy’s mother and father were speaking, and he noted how the boy stared up in fear and wonder at his father. He didn’t pay much attention to immortal gossip, but he knew the marriage of their King and the War Goddess had been rocky. Only lasting eight human years and only one child had been produced. The Goddess still kept her title as Queen, and he knew full well that she was vicious and courageous on the battlefield.

“She married a lower ranking God, you know,” Bill commented airily. “David, the God of Music. War and Music, what an interesting combination!”

“They bonded two years ago and already have a toddler,” he sighed, not caring for this conversation. “What is the child’s name?”

“Wirt,” Bill grinned and looked to the toddler, who was now trying to get his older brother’s attention. “The baby is named Gregory, but we call him Greg.”

“We?”

“Everyone, Beastie,” Bill cackled, thumping him on the back. “He’s made himself quite popular among the others. He can charm even the grumpiest of Gods!”

He didn’t say anything to that. He only took a sip from his blood red wine and watched the scene before him. The boy’s father only glanced at him a few times only speaking to him once in what he assumed was in a scolding tone, for the child immediately straightened up and couldn’t even look his father straight in the eye. He noticed his mother purse her lips in disapproval and as soon as she could, ushered her sons away.

“Why don’t you introduce yourself?” Bill prodded him, the smug smirk on his face.

“Xiāng Líng and David already know who I am,” he kept his face apathetic; now wishing that Bill would go away. “They have no interest in me and I have no interest in them.”

“Fine,” Bill huffed. “I’ll just introduce you for them.”

He didn’t protest as Bill dragged him along, knowing there wouldn’t be much point in fighting the God of Calamity and Insanity. He walked calmly, keeping his face void of any emotion as the small family of Immortals was suddenly in his view. Bill smiled widely. “How’s the party? You’re looking pretty good, Queenie!

“Bill,” their Queen nodded respectfully and politely to the both of them. “Cernunnos. How are you two this evening?”

“Very well,” he answered in the same tone as the Queen’s, interrupting Bill before he got the chance to speak again. “It has been a while since I attended an event here in this Shadow realm.”

“It has,” she replied back and then glanced quickly at Wirt, who was now watching David carry Greg around on his shoulders in barely concealed envy. “I don’t believe you’ve met my son, Walter. Wirt is his nickname. Wirt, you know of Cernunnos, don’t you?”

Wirt jumped at the sound of his mother talking to him and blushed pink. Glancing down at the ground, he spoke softly. “Yes,” Came the sound of his childlike voice, dark grey eyes now staring very intently at the marble flooring.

Now that he was right in front of him, he could study him more closely. He resembled his father quite a bit; the two of them sharing the same facial structure and nose. He would definitely be tall, that was for certain. He had his mother’s eyes, and they held the same mysterious and reserved quality hers did. He didn’t look very much like his half-brother. The other child’s face was rounder; resembling his own father. Despite his round and wide eye the only immediate things they did share was their skin tone and eye color.

“Wirt,” the boy’s mother spoke gently to him, eyeing him carefully. “Aren’t you going to be polite and say hello?”

He could tell the child wanted to roll his eyes and for some reason, that amused him. With a shy smile, the boy held out his right hand, waiting awkwardly for him to take it. After a second’s pause, he did take it and tried to suppress the shiver that went down his spine. No, this boy was too young. He’d been around for at least several thousand years; way older than this child. As he grasped the boy’s hand, the child’s dark eyes stared into his with curiosity and wonder. “Hello,” the sound of innocent and tentative voice slipped out. “How do you do?”

He decided right then and there that the boy would be his. Just not for another several years.

_I have been his shadow for nearly a decade,_

_And never once have I lifted my inexperienced lips,_

_His entire childhood was of pain and loneliness,_

_As his follower, from his cup of tears I took small sips,_

For the next seven years, he watched him from the shadows; careful to never let himself be known.

He watched the boy grow and change from a child to a young adult. He was beautiful; they all were, but the boy was more so than any of the others he had ever seen. He was as taller, as tall as his father and a lot had changed in the years. No longer was he that selfish and naïve child who was mean and cold towards his younger brother. He had grown up into a fine young immortal, mature and considerate to those around him. Of course, he was a bit nervous and at times overly cautious, and of course he still had his moments of being melodramatic, but he found it to be mostly endearing at times amusing.

It was almost time to make his claim, but not quite.

The Shadow realm, where the boy lived with his family, was a relatively quiet and peaceful place. Warriors and other brave people whom the boy’s mother found worthy could train and meditate in her home, and she would even take on apprentices both mortal and immortal, but right now, the place was quiet. The boy knew some moves on self-defense, but it was clear he was no skilled fighter.

He knew all of his habits. How he liked his tea (milk, no sugar), his favorite pastimes (which included poetry, playing the bassoon and clarinet, interior design), and a whole bunch of other things that he could probably write down a list if he truly wanted to. He was very good at music, leading some to believe that David’s musical talents had rubbed off on him. His poetry was nice, although some of it was depressing and made him look like a dramatic teenager all over again.

He went to a lot more parties than he used to, Bill finding it very amusing and had called him some sort of creepy stalker at one point, but he didn’t care. Bill wasn’t any better, considering he had many times tried to court the great-nephew of Stanford Pines. The Insane God was receiving mixed results, the young immortal, Dipper, most likely finding the other God’s attempts hilarious and probably irritating.

So here he was, at a party in honor of some God he didn’t even remember. He watched the boy chat with his younger brother, who had also grown up quite a bit. Nine years old, if he recalled correctly. Right now, the seventeen year old Wirt tried not to look too flustered as a pretty goddess with short black hair and dark skin walked over to him, a gentle smile on her face.

“Cernunnos.”

He tore his intense gaze away from the young man and his sibling, eyes now meeting the calm dark blue eyes of Mortimer. The two very tall Gods stared at each other for a long moment, neither of them saying anything for a long time. From the corner of his eye, he could see Xiāng Líng giving the two of them a confused look, but thank fully did not come over. It did look odd since the two of them rarely ever spoke to one another; the last time they did speak was a good nine hundred years ago and that was a considerable amount of time that had passed.

Mortimer cleared his throat, staring calmly into the chardonnay glass in his hand. “I’ve heard that you are interested in my son,” he paused, as if waiting for his reaction but when he got none, he only sighed. “I’ve heard from a…reliable source.”

He followed the King’s gaze, snorting lightly when it landed on Bill Cipher. The God of Insanity waved towards them from where he was standing, which was right next to Dipper, who looked like he wanted to flee from the unwanted presence of Bill. Of course Bill would rat him out. Not that he was afraid of Mortimer; the God was powerful, but hardly a match for him. “He’s a fine young man,” he stated in a matter of fact way, face remaining passive. “You must be proud.”

“Of course,” Mortimer nodded, but his voice was empty. Not surprising; the God probably forgot most days he even had a son. “If you want him, you have my permission to…court him.”

Well. Those were two words he didn’t expect the other Immortal to ever say to him. His face remained neutral as he stared at the King, a slender eyebrow raised in question. “You would give your own son to me, of all the Gods and Goddesses you could hand him off to,” he was at the point of almost sneering at the other immortal; a light curl to the mouth showing his grin. “But I wonder what you would want in return? You are not, as a I recall, a very generous. Have you even spoken to the boy’s mother about trading him off?”

Mortimer’s face paled a little at that, glancing quickly at his former mate before returning his gaze back to his. “Xiāng Líng may be the mother of our child, but that doesn’t mean she gets to make all the decisions,” he paused, as if former mate could somewhat hear what they were talking about and start a war to protect her son. He could see her doing it; it wouldn’t be the first time she had fought to protect her family.

“What I want in return,” Mortimer continued smoothly after taking a long sip of his chardonnay. “Is your political allegiance to me.”

“Is that all?” he asked condescendingly. “I figured someone like you would want something a bit more.”

Mortimer twisted his lips distastefully, looking at him with narrowed eyes. “You are a very powerful God, possibly even more powerful than myself. You manage the afterlife and the dead and dying mortals; you control the fear that immortals and mortals have. Yet, you remain a neutral party unless you find something that will benefit you. In exchange for my son, I ask for your allegiance every time our court gets into disagreement. I would think it’s a fair trade, wouldn’t you agree?”

He was not expecting this; the offer was well thought of, but was it worth it was the question. In the background, he swore he could see Bill giving him a thumb’s up, but he shook that thought from his mind. The offer was not entirely a bad one; despite the fact politics held no interest to him. Of course, deals could be amended and broken. He wouldn’t have to defy Mortimer right away; he could wait a couple hundred, maybe thousand years. By then, the boy would be so in love with him that separating them would be pointless and start an argument that would get messy very quickly.

“Most certainly,” he shook Mortimer’s hand, smirking lightly at Mortimer’s pleased smile. “This arrangement will be very beneficial.”

_Strong hands pulling you away from everything you know,_

_A silent scream that no one can hear,_

_One hand on your mouth,_

_One hand moving down,_

_Your world ripped apart before your eyes,_

_Everything you once knew; gone,_

_Denial; shame,_

_Oh, what a lovely game_

Wirt had no idea what had happened until it was too late.

It was a lovely autumn day in their Shadow realm. From the maple and ash trees outside their home, red, orange, yellow, and brown rusted colored leaves fell from their branches and onto the ground. His mother was out training mortal soldiers for combat and his father was at a music event in a different Shadow realm, so for today, it was just him and his little brother.

After their lunch, they spent most of the afternoon outside. He had raked most of the leaves into several piles, liking how their lawn was neat and tidy now. Greg had been helping; using a smaller rake to organize the leaves, but eventually decided that playing with their frog was more fun. Wirt wasn’t upset with him, since he rather liked to do the work himself and found that watching the boy play was more heartwarming.

“Greg, ack! Don’t throw leaves at me!” he scolded lightly, running his hands through his dark hair to remove the crisp leaves. “Greg, are you listening to me?”

“What?” the boy’s upper body popped out from the leaf pile, the nine year old feigning innocence. “What were you saying, brother o’ mine?”

“Oh, nothing,” he replied airily, lips curling into a smirk. “Only, this young skipper better watch out!”

With that, the young man threw leaves at his brother’s face, several of them ending up in the boy’s mouth. The child promptly spit them out, laughing all the way. “Let’s make this pile bigger, captain!” he cheered, grabbing their pet frog, Jason Funderberker and headed off in the direction of the woods nearby. “I bet there are lots of more leaves in the forest!”

“Greg!” he called back, running after the boy. For a child, Greg could run pretty quickly and even with his longer legs, Wirt had trouble keeping up with him sometimes. “Greg!” he called again, running past the trees and the animals that were minding their own business. “Greg, Mom and David said not to run into the forest! It’s too dangerous!”

“Wirt, look at all these leaves!”

The boy was currently looking at a pile of rather large golden yellow leaves. He grabbed the boy’s hand, narrowing his eyes. “Greg, don’t run off like that!” he lectured, the boy now staring at him innocently. Pinching the bridge of his nose, he sighed. “Just stay where I can see you; I don’t want anything to happen to you.”

“But nothing bad will happen to us here!” Greg argued, letting go of Wirt’s hand and leaning down to gather more leaves. “Because you’re here! And I always feel safe when I’m with you!”

While it was a sweet thing to say, that still didn’t calm his pounding heart. While they were relatively safe in their own realm, the forest was a different story. The forest was actually a bridge between their realm and the realm of another immortal. The realms were so close together that it would be relevantly easy to pass into the other one. Not that Wirt had ever done that; their mother didn’t want them getting lost, so he never really had a desire to enter.

“Wirt?”

“Y…yeah?”

Greg looked down at the leaves in his arms and then looked back up to him, jutting his hip out in a sassy fashion. “Where are your leaves, big brother o’ mine?” he inquired with a smile. “How are we supposed to build our fort?”

“Alright, alright,” he gathered the leaves in his arms to appease the child. “Happy now?”

“Yes!”

He shook his head, smiling fondly at his little brother as they headed back towards the pile. Hopping quickly behind them, their frog ribbited and jumped after them as they headed back to their home. He hummed along to the song Greg began to sing, nodding his head along to tune.

“Look at these leaves; these leaves are amazing! All yellow and pretty shining like the sun! Oh these leaves will be wonderful in our pile and it will be the best pile in the world!” he paused from his song, looing widely at his brother. “Okay, now you sing the really high part!”

“Greg, you know I can’t sing the high part.”

“Do it, do it!”

So he did. Perhaps if there were anyone else there to listen, he wouldn’t have done it, but since it was Greg, he felt almost obliged. He sang along with his little brother, his voice obviously too deep to sing the high part and it sounded funny, but he felt satisfied that he was making Greg happy. Returning to the leaf pile, they deposited the leaves. Several trips were taken and by the time they were done, their leaf pile was of now considerable height.

“Is it high enough now” he asked, hands on his hips.

Greg copied him, looking up at the pile with puffed up cheeks. “Hmmm,” the boy narrowed his eyes in a scrutinizing manner, eyes looking up and down at the pile. “Hmmm, I guess,” he finally decided, face breaking out into a grin. “Hey Wirt, can we get hot chocolate?”

“Sure,” he nodded, shivering a little at the cold nip that brushed by. “It’s getting cold out here anyway.”

Of course, they never did make it inside. They were walking up the small hill towards their home when a growling sound erupted behind them. The hairs on the back of his neck stood up and he regretted turning around. A large, black wolf with piercing multicolored eyes growled at them, barring its fangs threateningly. Greg’s eyes widened and he stepped behind Wirt, grabbing their frog. “Holy moly!” came the sound of his surprised voice. “Hot Dogs, that’s a really big dog!”

“Greg, run!”

He pushed his little brother forward, the two of them running up the hill. The wolf was snapping at his heels and he winced, but kept his eyes focused on Greg. The boy was running for his life, panting as his legs carried him up the hill. Where had this beast come from? He thought the creatures of the forest followed his mother and step-father’s command? He swore he had seen the eyes before…but where?

“Run Greg!” he called out, the boy getting further ahead of him. “Run and don’t look back!”

He ended up tripping over his untied shoe laces, landing face first in the grass. Greg did as he was told for once, probably not hearing the sound of Wirt falling over. He turned around on his back, dark eyes widening as the beast like wolf towered over him, its eyes directly in his. He should have moved; he should have done something, but its eyes kept him paralyzed. He couldn’t move; he wasn’t even aware he had a body anymore.

“Wirt!”

He could hear Greg’s voice, sounding small and scared. He whipped his head away, breaking from the animal’s powerful gaze. He turned his head to see Greg, who was now standing in front of the house with their frog. He took one step forward, as if to run to his older brother’s aid. “No!” Wirt called back, shaking his head. “Greg, stay put! I mean it, don’t move! Stay there!”

“But Wirt-“

“Greg, listen to me!” he tried to keep his voice calm and level, taking a deep breath in order to calm himself. It wasn’t easy; not with a monster breathing down his neck. “Greg, stay where you are. I’m going to be okay. I need you to, uh, stay put and not draw the creature’s attention.”

Then he felt it. Something wrapping around his ankles and dragging him backwards down the hill. The wolf had disappeared, like it hadn’t been there. He twisted around as he was being dragged, attempting to remove the roots wrapping around his legs. They wouldn’t budge! They were like iron; so tight he felt they were crushing his legs. Greg called something out, but he couldn’t hear due to the sound of blood rushing in his ears.

He was being pulled so fast, that he couldn’t even think properly. His legs felt like he was on fire and he screamed in panic as he was dragged back towards the forest. The roots continued to pull him in until he could no longer see Greg and their home. It seemed to go on forever until suddenly the roots vanished, slamming him none to gently into a tree. He blinked, bringing a hand to his head so his vision would stop swimming. A figure appeared in front of him, a black shadow with what looked to be antlers or branches extending from his head. “What…what’s going on?” he asked in a dazed tone, blinking quickly. “Who…who are you?”

“Shush,” he was pulled into the creature’s arms, a gnarled hand that felt very smooth and cool against his lips. “Just relax and be quiet.”

The fingers pried his lips open, warm sticky syrup-like liquid pouring in too his mouth. He fought against the creature, trying not to swallow the sweet liquid, but it poured down his throat anyway. He felt drowsy and he found himself relaxing in the creature’s arms, the cold, yet beautiful eyes staring into his with some sort of triumphant gleam as he slipped into unconsciousness.

The last thing he heard was the sound of Greg’s scared voice calling out his name.

When he awoke, he was in some strange new realm he had never been in before. For all he knew, it could be the realm right next to his home, but it also could be an entirely different one. His immortal life of seventeen, now almost eighteen, years didn’t grant him knowledge of every single immortal and their realms. Even as he knew some immortals, he didn’t know where all of them lived or how to navigate through them. He was in new territory with no way of knowing how to get through it.

Some Gods were even crueler than others; messing with the mortals and causing destruction. To a limit, of course because if all the mortals were wiped out, balance would be undone. At least, that’s what he had been told. That didn’t help him much and he couldn’t recall on who kidnapped him. He felt as if he had seen those eyes before; somewhere in the back of his memory there was a face he could place those eyes on, but right now he was drawing a blank. Everything was hazy and slowly, the situation dawned on him.

Holy crap, he’d been kidnapped! He sat up immediately, regretting doing so as nausea hit him. He felt sick; the kind of sick where all you wanted to do was puke your guts out. His head was swimming, but the sense of vertigo was slowly fading away and the world was becoming clearer. Instead of some dark and cold dungeon, he was in a rather well furnished room.

Most of the furniture was made out of wood, much to his surprise. Beautiful dark wicker set the frame of the bed he was currently on. Gods didn’t need to sleep, but marveled at the mortal invention of the bed and used it anyway. They could sleep if they desired, but it wasn’t necessary. For younger Gods, there was an exception but once they hit a certain age, sleep wasn’t necessary. An ornately carved desk and wardrobe stood off in one side of the large room. Two nightstands with drawers holding unknown contents stood at each side of the bed and as much as he wanted to, he knew better than to snoop. Who knew if his kidnapper would get angry?

He removed himself off the soft, warm cotton bed and stepped in front of a large polished silver mirror. He didn’t appear injured, as he looked himself over. Actually, he was clean, which made his heart pound even harder. Being dragged into the woods had roughed him up and dirtied him, so who had cleaned him? Where were his clothes? Who had changed him? Who touched him?

Just the thought of someone, most likely his kidnapper, touching him made the nausea come back. He sat back down on the bed, looking down at what he was wearing. A long white rob with the left overlapping the right with an emerald green sash tied around his middle tightly to keep the clothing together. The clothes were of silk and felt very cool and soft against his skin. However, being somewhat comfortable aside, he knew exactly what these kinds of clothes were meant for.

These were bonding clothes. Did his kidnapper take him just to bond with him?

The first thought to cross his mind, was why him? Just because his father was the king didn’t make him very desirable. He was a minor God, the child of two major Gods. In fact, he hadn’t even been given a title yet. So why would this kidnapper take him? What did he possibly have that his kidnapper found attractive?

With bare feet, he tiptoed towards the door. As his long fingers brushed the handle, the door suddenly opened. He jumped back, tripping over the long robe and falling on his behind. He expected the shadow figure with antlers but instead, it was a man. A tall man, much taller than himself dressed entirely in black stared down at him with the same multicolored eyes as the creature that kidnapped him. He had sharp features and skin as pale as a corpse. His hair, a dark sandy blonde that had a good portioned layered to the left with medium swept bangs. He felt his mouth go dry just looking at him and all of a sudden, he felt oddly exposed.

“I know you,” was all he managed to get out, standing up to glare at the man with new bravado he hadn’t felt earlier. “We met years ago at the Winter solstice party! W…why am I here?”

“Why do you think?” the God smirked with thin lips. “Surely a smart boy like you can figure it out.”

Of course he had figured it out already and he backed up, hitting the mirror and flinching when the cool glass hit his back. The God only advanced further into the room, standing in front of him. Wirt averted his eyes from the God, only to have a hand grip his chin firmly. “It is rude to not answer a question,” the God said in a disapproving tone. “If you are going to act like a spoiled child, my methods might become unpleasant.”

Like they weren’t already, but Wirt kept his mouth shut. “You…you want to bond with me,” he managed to stutter out, crossing fingers and hoping that the God would say no.

And of course he was wrong.

“So very correct,” a feather light touch was traced down his cheek, the pale spindly finger landing on his collar bone. He thought he saw a flash of hunger cross his beautiful eyes, but all Wirt wanted to do right now was run from his predatory gaze.

“Please let me go!” he tried to reason, staring at him earnestly. “I won’t tell anyone what you did; I swear! I won’t tell my mother or father, just let me go home! I’m sure my mother and step-father are very concerned about where I am.” He didn’t bother to mention his father; he just didn’t have it in him.

“An almost convincing plea,” the God only smirked harder, taking his right hand into his. “But I cannot and will not let you go. I’ve waited long enough for this day.”

“What?”

“Listen up,” the God’s tone changed drastically, now sharper and more firm. His face was passive, but he stared very sternly at him, like he was about to reprimand him. “I have intended to have you ever since we met. I could have taken you then and there, but children aren’t my type. However, now that you’re a young man now, I am more than happy to take what I want.”

“I won’t let you!” he snapped, completely aware of the danger he was putting himself in. “My mother…she’ll come after you! My step-father too! My father-“

“Your father,” the God sneered at him with an all too happy grin. “Allowed for this to happen.”

Wirt’s face only dropped the defensive look, disbelief crashing over him. He felt his heart drop into his stomach as he stared at the God of Fear and the Afterlife. “My father? He…he gave me to you?”

“For a small price,” The God only waved a hand dismissively. “He didn’t appear adamant at all about giving you to me,” his fingers ghosted his jaw lightly. “In fact, he even offered me the chance before I asked him.”

Did it surprise him that his father would do something like this? The more he thought about it, the thing that sickened him the most is that this didn’t surprise him. His father was completely okay with some God kidnapping him and then forcing him into a bonding. Was forced the correct word or was arranged? No one asked him what he wanted; hardly anyone ever did.

The God, Cernunnos, or The Beast, as some called him, took his hand firmly and led him out the door of the room. If he remembered correctly, The Beast lived in a realm called The Unknown, which from what he knew, was the afterlife. He had never ventured into it and to his dismay, had no idea on how to get out. His chances of getting out weren’t very high either if he was bonded with the God. After the bonding, they would be linked to their mate and know how they’re feeling. The God would know if he tried to escape and the last thing he’d want was for this God to be angry. He was a powerful God; rivaling that of his father and sitting at the council as one of the major Gods. He wasn’t someone to be taken lightly.

He snapped out of his musing, attempting to pull his hand out of the God’s, but his grip only tightened. “I will put you over my shoulder if need be,” The God warned. “Don’t think I won’t.”

Outside, he got a good look on where he was. Apparently it was autumn in The Unknown as well and the crisp wind sent shivers down his spine. The God apparently lived in a relatively medium sized manner; sensible since he was the only one living there. A gazebo stood behind the house, where a God he knew too well was standing in the middle.

“Bill!” he called out, struggling against The Beast. “You’ve got to help me! This God kidnapped me and-“

“Oh, I know,” Bill grinned like a Cheshire cat, tipping his top hat towards him. “I knew what he was planning. It was about time he settled down and made a few babies with someone.”

He paled considerably at that. Yes, Gods could get pregnant, but he had never thought about it. Now that he was about to be bonded, was the God expecting him to produce his offspring? He shuddered at the thought.

“Just do what I asked,” The Beast grumbled almost impatiently. “Then you can go flirt with that God of yours.”

“Gladly,” Bill sneered back. “Alright, so let’s begin, shall we?”

Wirt almost sighed in relief when the God released his hand, only to find that he removed them to take a dagger from Bill. He made a small indent on his palm, deep enough to produce blood, but not enough to scar. He then took Wirt’s left palm, slicing it and earning a hiss of discomfort. He ignored it and handed the dagger back to Bill.

Bill hummed what he thought was “Here comes the bride”, and took a red sash from his pocket. “As witness to this bonding ceremony,” he started in an obnoxiously happy tone. “I will be the one to witness the bonding of Cernunnos and Walter, who will be forever bonded until both parties agree to be unbound from each other. With the sacred act, I bind these two together for eternity.”

As he continued to speak the sacred passage, he tied the sash around their hands, tightening them to where their palms connected and the blood mixed. He felt it all in a rush, everything the other God felt he could feel, like an itch in the back of his skull. He could feel the hunger and triumph he was feeling and the small echo of happiness he was trying to hide. All Wirt wanted to do was cry and run away. Run back home and pretend this was all a dream.

But it wasn’t a dream. This was really happening and there was no escape. It was all over. As Bill undid the sash, the God placed two silver rings on their index fingers. A tradition the mortals had taken a liking to for their own ceremonies. His knees were shaking as Bill tipped his hat in farewell, patting his friend on the back and the dancing off into the forest.

The sky had darkened to some degree and he could hear the blood roaring in his ears as The Beast took him upstairs. He snapped, catching the God off guard and releasing his hand from his and running off down the winding staircase. The God, much to his chagrin, caught him quickly and flipped him over his shoulder, just like how a parent would treat a child.

He knew the God could sense his fear as he deposited him into a new bedroom. He figured this room was The Beast’s, for it was far more decorated than the room he had awoken in. Deposited on the ground in front of a cotton bed with black silk sheets, he watched with frightened eyes as the God locked the doors.

_Hello where’d my childhood go?_

_It’s been snatched before my eyes,_

_Everyone’s crying,_

_But no one sees me,_

_You can’t print flyers asking for it back,_

_It isn’t something broadcasted on the news,_

_Something’s been taken from you; something you should never lose so soon,_

_Your world soon turns inside out_

_You’re not a kid anymore_

He trembled as he felt the God came near, turning his back to him to stare at the ground. Never before had he felt this kind of fear. He had experienced shyness and fear before, but never at this level. He flinched when cold fingertips traced the back of his neck before dancing their way down his back. His breathing grew shallow as nimble fingers undid the sash at a languid pace. He trembled like a leaf in the rain as he sash fell to the floor, the hands turning him around so that he faced the older God.

Hands cupped his face, the beautiful eyes meeting his own dark ones. “No need to be frightened,” he spoke in his low voice. “I’m not going to hurt you.”

 _“Too much,”_ Wirt thought bitterly and tried to turn his head away. It was a vain attempt, for surprisingly warm lips met his own. He undid the rest of the robes while he kissed him, not seemingly bothered by his lack of inexperience. A tongue slid across his lips and he unknowingly parted them, making a little noise of discomfort as a wet tongue rubbed at his own.

The robe was pushed off before he could stop the hands that slid the cool fabric off. He tried to pull away, but cold hands held him in place. He was then picked up again, ironically like a bride being picked up by her groom and was gently placed on the center of the bed. He was exposed to the God and he could see the hungry gaze in his eyes as he undid his own clothing.

He wanted to cry, but no tears came to his eyes. Not even when the God kneeled over him, a leg parting his thighs to spread him open. Wirt continued to shake, closing his eyes as he felt a cool hand stroke him into hardness and he could feel heat pool in the pit of his stomach. The Beast continued to kiss him and he continued to not respond, attempting to separate himself from his body.

It felt good, what the God was doing, but he didn’t want this. He didn’t want any of this. “Why me?” he asked when the God released his now swollen lips.

“The first moment I saw you, I knew I had to have you,” was all the God said as he moved his head down lower to kiss at the juncture of his neck. He bit down harshly, earning a cry from Wirt and then a whine of discomfort as he licked and suckled over the spot where he bit him. Pale hands moved sensually up his body, earning a shiver and a tiny held back moan erupted from his lips as they rubbed and pinched his nipples.

He felt so hot; even though the room was relatively cool. His penis ached, standing up and leaking precum that glistened in the darkening room. The Beast grasped his erection, moving his hand up and down in a slow, agonizing manner that made his tiny moans grow even louder. He cursed at his stupid body, eyes still closed shut.

He let out a surprised squeal as an oiled finger parted his insides. It wiggled around, a second finger soon joining as they scissored his virgin hole. He shook his head, nauseated by what was coming. “No!” he protested, hands pushing at the God’s body. “No, stop, I don’t want this. It hurts, stop, it hurts!”

“Shh,” the God kissed him again, fingers still working in him. “It’ll feel better momentarily.”

As he spoke, a third finger was added, stretching him to a point he didn’t think was possible. He cried out in pain and then, those nimble fingers brushed up against something inside him that made him feel good. “No…” he spoke softly, now too lost in the good feeling the God was giving him. “I…I don’t…want this!”

The God continued to ignore him and soon released his fingers slowly. He felt so empty now and for a moment, he thought it was over. Until he felt the God line himself up at his entrance, hands grasping the headboard as he slowly pushed in. He cried out, tears now falling freely down his cheeks. The Beast kissed them away, continuing to push himself in.

“Stop, stop!” he cried out, but to no avail. There wasn’t anyone here who could save him; no one was here but him and The Beast. “Please,” he cried as the God fully settled himself in. “I beg you, stop!”

It wasn’t the stinging pain that bothered him; rather that the God was too lost in his own needs. He pulled out before pushing back in and creating a rhythm that started out slow, but gradually grew faster as he thrusted deeper into him. It was impossible to block everything out now as the God’s cock hit at that sweet spot, probably enjoying the sounds that Wirt was making. His thrusts hit every time; his hand now reaching for his glistening erection, stroking it in time with his thrusts. Wirt only wrapped his arms around the God’s neck, legs tightening around his hips as he kept pushing in.

He wished it would stop. He wanted to hide under the bed in embarrassment and misery at the shameful way he was reacting to the God. He never asked for this; what had he done that was so bad to deserve this kind of treatment? He knew what rape was but did this count since he was reacting to it? Everything was so confusing right now and all he could do was cry even harder.

He didn’t remember how or when he came, or for that fact when the other God came, but the God eventually relaxed against him, breathing heavily and not seeming to mind all too much the sticky fluid that coated both their stomachs. He pulled out of him, pulling Wirt to his chest and reached out to wipe his tears away. “There is no need to cry,” he spoke softly against his ear, his breath warm against the skin. “Now stop, it’s becoming annoying. Stop feeling sorry for yourself and try to see the good in your new situation.”

He sniffed, shaking his head. “There is no good! I want to go home; back to my family. Please, let me go back! I don’t want to be here!”

The arms tightened and he flinched, not meeting the strange eyes of the God. His heart thumped loudly in his chest as a hand gripped his chin quite firmly, forcing his face to meet his again. “There is plenty of good if you would choose to look optimistic. First, you have a home in one of the most intricate Shadow realms in the universe. Second, you are the mate of one of the most powerful Gods to ever exist. Third, you could be mated to Bill Cipher of all Gods and have to put up with his every day. So stop this act of self-pity.”

Wirt just wiped his eyes and turned over, his back now facing the other God. He tried to imagine he was in his own bed back home, surrounded by endless books of poetry and his clarinet and bassoon. All he wanted to do now was sleep; sleep and try to forget this was happening.

_In the dust of your time,_

_You live like a shadow,_

_Inhaling the dust of your time,_

_Knowing that all good things are bypassing you,_

_Thus your life is just dust in the air_

After their first night together, The Beast disappeared for a few days.

Not that he minded all too much. When he awoke in the bed alone, he immediately appreciated the time he got to spend alone. He cleaned himself up in the adjoining bathroom, finding clothes that surprisingly fit him well and resembled the clothes he wore at home. A clean white shirt, gray pants with suspenders and a navy blue cape. He managed to find his shoes, surprised that they looked clean and the scuffs had been removed.  He wandered through the house, looking for any signs of The Beast, but there were none. The house was empty, aside from him and the more he explored, the lonelier he felt.

Towards the back of the house, there was a large room with an open feeling to it. Large windows gave it a very open and spacious look and with the light of the noon sun, it felt warm and inviting. He stepped inside, the wood slick and polished underneath his shoes. Like the rest of the house, wicker furniture was everywhere. Two nineteenth century wicker fainting couches sat across from each other with red cushions, looking very soft and inviting. Several book cases lined the wall, and he could feel his hands itching towards them.

The thing however that caught his eye the most, was the large grand piano that sat near one of the large windows. He gravitated towards it, marveling at its beauty. Light polished brown wood, with four golden legs to support its massive weight. The case had several painted pictures of bridges and landscape, each picture looking like it took several hours; days even to complete. The inside of the lid had a painting as well, a bird with a trumpet in its talons and flying away from a table full of instruments and a blue vase filled with red roses.

Wirt’s hand traced the piano lightly, as if one touch would break it. He had never taken the time to learn piano, though he had always admired the sound and the talent the Music Gods had when they played. He wondered if The Beast played the piano, but the thought of the God made his skin crawl and opted for grabbing a book from the book case and curled up on one of the sofas.

Aside from reading several books for the next few days while it rained outside, he was beginning to grow restless. While he loved reading, sitting around and doing nothing proved to be rather boring after doing it for days. So when the sun came out after three straight days of rain, he took advantage of the opportunity and went outside.

The woods, though dark and a bit intimidating, held a beauty in it that he doubted few Gods and Goddesses had ever seen. Despite some rather creepy trees with weird faces on them, he admired the quiet simplicity of the woods. It was peaceful; nice. Different from the Shadow realm he had grown up in, which had resembled the culture of a mortal country his mother had taken a liking to.

He knelt down by a stream, now rather thirsty and as he brought the cool water to his lips, he felt something hit him in the head. “Ow!” he cried out, bringing a hand to his forehead and rubbing the tender spot. He glanced down, noticing a rock near his feet. “What the?”

“Hey you!”

He jumped, turning around to see a tall girl with vibrant red hair and rosy cheeks decorated with freckles. A brown and white dog stood next to her, staring at him innocently while the girl glared. Hands on her hips, she tapped her foot impatiently. “Who are you?” she demanded quite snappily. “What are you doing near my house?”

“Your house?” he asked in bewilderment, blinking at her. “What?”

Her eyes narrowed slightly. “Who are you?” she asked again in a rather bossy tone. “I’ve never seen you before. Are you some kind of psychopathic murderer?”

“No!” he protested, now annoyed with her attitude. He mimicked her position, hands on his own hips as well. “I’m a God!”

“Prove it!”

At first, a part of him forgot how to reveal what he truly was. He fumbled around awkwardly for a few seconds, the girl not looking very impressed and the dog next to her now choosing to gnaw on a stick. When he eventually remembered, the redheaded girl had picked up another rock, threatening to throw it at him when a dark blue light surrounded his body. All Gods were able to project an aura, casting a unique glow around their body and it could be formed different shapes, like a cloak or armor, as he had often seen on his mother.

The girl dropped the rock, staring at him in shock. “You’ve got to be kidding me!” she sounded so shocked that he couldn’t help but smirk. “No way! You’re a God? But what are you doing here? The Beast hardly ever receives visitors.”

“It’s kind of a long story,” the dark blue light faded from his body, dissipating like it had never been there before. He hopped across the stones on the stream, standing in front of the girl. She was quite tall for a mortal female, standing right at his chin. He stuck out his right hand. “My name is Wirt.”

“Wirt?” she raised a red eyebrow.

“It’s, uh, short for Walter.”

She looked at his hand carefully before taking it firmly. “Beatrice,” her grip was firm, a lot firmer than he expected. “This is my dog, and we live in the mill nearby. Come with me.”

“What?”

“Just follow me,” she snapped grumpily, motioning for him to follow. “There are some things I need to ask you.”

He followed her, despite not really wanting to. The mill was simple looking, and several children stood outside it. They ceased their playing when Wirt walked by, tugging at his cape and staring at the ring on his finger. They whispered, green and brown eyes glancing at each other as they followed him and Beatrice into the house.

“Beatrice!” a woman in her mid-forties came away from the stove, her hair red with more of an orange tint to it and a simple blue dress and bonnet. “You’re back! Oh, who is this?”

“Mom, this is Wirt. He’s a God.”

He blushed at the oohs and ahs coming from the children. A man around the same age as Beatrice’s mother stepped forward, his hair the same vibrant shade as hers. “Beatrice,” he started, green eyes holding a mischievous gleam in them. “I didn’t know you had a beau.”

“Dad!” her rosy cheeks turned even darker; as did his and the man laughed.

“Oooh, Beatrice has a boyfriend!” a little girl with freckles and the same red hair as Beatrice snickered, green eyes gleaming.

“Shut it, Elizabeth!”

Wirt just stared dumbfounded at the family, blinking at them and having the sudden urge to flee. He commended the mother for having eleven children, now understanding how his mother must have felt when he and Greg would argue and play fight. The mother swatted both of them on the heads, hands on her hips. She then turned to him, stepping over the little toddler on the floor and placing her hands on his shoulders. “Why don’t you sit down and you tell us about yourself. My name’s Agatha and this is my husband, Edwin. You already know my daughter, Beatrice. These are the rest of our children, William, Mary, Elizabeth,” she pointed to the two boys sitting on the stairs. “Alfred and Arthur, and our twins Clay and Lydia. Then we have Tom and our youngest son, Ashley. And our youngest daughter, Alice.”

His head was swimming with all the names and faces. The children waved and giggled at his confused expression and he flushed darker, wanting to melt in the chair. “So, you’re a God?” Beatrice’s mother, Agatha, asked as she poured him a cup of tea. “We don’t get many Gods here in The Unknown. Are you a friend of Cernunnos?”

He found it interesting that she didn’t call him The Beast. Maybe she had some weird sort of respect for the God? “Uh, it’s kind of a long story,” he rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly. “I didn’t exactly come here of my own free will?"

“So you got lost?” one of the boys, William or was it Alfred, asked, smirking in amusement.

“Uh, no,” he shook his head. “Well, I guess now I’m kind of lost, but I was taken from my home a few days ago by The Beast.”

Agatha took one look at the ring on his finger, quickly putting two and two together. “Children, outside! All of you! Shoo, shoo!”

She waved them out, despite the many protests. Beatrice stuck her tongue out at Elizabeth as the girl picked up the baby and went outside. While he found that little exchange amusing, the fact that the adults had figured out his situation only made his embarrassment grow further. Beatrice hadn’t left; she opted for leaning against the wall with her arms crossed as he told his whole story.

They were sympathetic, listening whole heartedly and didn’t speak, only squeezing his hand tenderly. “So yeah,” he finished, slouching in his seat. “I’m stuck here now with no way of getting out and returning to my family.”

“That’s too bad,” Agatha poured more tea into his cup. “I’m sorry I can’t do anything; and no one else here in The Unknown can either. We live under his reign and he can be rather cruel and merciless. I’m surprised that he chose you as a bride; I didn’t think he liked anyone.”

He had to remind himself that these mortals used their own terms to define a binding ceremony, blushing pink at the being called a bride. “I haven’t seen him for days,” he admitted, taking a long sip of tea. “I have no idea on where he went or what’s going on in the other realms. My family must be so worried.”

“They have to be!” Beatrice commented. “What kind of family would they be if they weren’t?”

“Beatrice,” Edwin warned gently before returning his attention back to Wirt. “Well, you’re welcome to stay with us. We’d be happy to take a visitor!”

“Oh, no!” Wirt shook his head, giving a polite smile. “I’m sorry, but I couldn’t impose on you like that. Besides, The Beast might get mad if I’m away too long and the last thing I’d want is for him to come after you. He’d find me pretty quickly. You know, the bond and all.”

“Well you can still come here anytime you like,” Agatha declared, her husband nodding in agreement. “It’s not every day a God comes into our realm. And things are getting especially interesting now.”

He tilted his head. “What do you mean?”

“Well, how often do Gods kidnap other Gods?”

He tried to think back to the last gossip he heard or one of the stories he read years ago, but couldn’t think of any at the moment. “None, I guess,” he shrugged. “I know mortals tend to kidnap each other, but a God…”

“Exactly,” Agatha sighed. “And if your father agreed to marry you off to The Beast, then there’s going to be political conflict. And since your mother’s a War Goddess,” the older woman shivered at the thought. “I think things might get ugly real quick.”

He didn’t like the thought of a political conflict, but a part of him wondered if this was what his father wanted. Gods got bored very easily and fights and arguments tended to happen a lot. Was his father just bored of the peace was now wanting to fight with his mother? He knew that when they fought together as a tag team, they were virtually invincible, but against each other? He shivered at the thought, concerned for both their well beings.

“I should get going,” he stood up from the chair, bowing slightly towards her. “Thank you for your hospitality and kindness. I hope to see you again soon.”

“Come by anytime!” Edwin stated in a jolly voice. “Any friend of Beatrice’s is a friend of ours!”

“Dad, he’s not my friend!”

Beatrice took him by the hand, practically dragging him back to the house. She ignored the giggles and snickers her brothers and sisters sent her, and she didn’t seem bothered by how red his face was getting. “Come on,” she grumbled, cheeks pink. “I’ll get you back to The Beast’s house; I know where it is.”

“How do you know where it is?”

She rolled her eyes. “When you’ve lived here as long as I have, you start to know quite a bit,” she left an air of mystery to hang there, pursing her lips and staring at the path in front of her. “I’m sorry I threw a rock at your head.”

“It’s okay,” he shrugged. “It didn’t hurt that much.”

“It did so! It hit you square in the forehead!” she let go of his hand, turning around to face him in a sassy manner. “You liar!”

“I think you need to work on it,” he taunted back, finding himself smiling. “It couldn’t hurt a fly!”

“Oh, you insufferable jerk!”

He was beginning to like Beatrice quite a bit, though he wasn’t entirely sure how she felt about him. She dropped him off in front of the manner, gazing at it with distaste. “I’ll drop you off here, but there’s no way I’m going inside that trap,” she eyed it again, stepping backwards in order to leave. She was halfway off the property when she stopped and turned around. “Are you…sure you don’t want to stay with us?”

“I’ll be fine,” he reassured her quickly, knowing full well she didn’t believe him. “I’ll come visit again soon!”

She disappeared into the trees and with a deep sigh, he pushed the doors open. Music reached his ears, the sound of the piano playing distantly through the house. With quiet footsteps, he wandered to where the room was, pushing the doors open to reveal the older God, who was playing a rather haunting tune on the grand instrument, pale fingers moving quickly across the keys. If he noticed Wirt enter the room, he didn’t say anything. Only until Wirt cleared his throat that he stopped playing, his strange, yet beautiful rings of various colored eyes met his.

“Uh,” Wirt felt his hand grasp the door knob, ready to flee at any moment. “You’ve been away for a while.”

Wow. Even Greg could come up with a better opening than that. The Beast stood up from the piano, stepping gracefully over to him and before he knew it, they were standing right in front of each other, not saying anything for a long while.

“Business,” The Beast broke the silence, eyes staring into his. “I was away on business.”

“Oh. Okay.”

He grasped the doorknob more firmly, half tempted to open it and then shut it in the God’s face when a hand took his gently. The other hand traced his face and a flower appeared in its wake. He felt it, the texture stating that it was a rose and a blush formed on his cheek.

The Beast stepped back, face trying to hide an emotion that Wirt thought he would never see from a God like him. “I…apologize,” he looked so uncomfortable; so awkward saying those words. “It was never my intention to hurt you.”

Was he hearing this correctly? Was the God actually apologizing to him? He was in way ready to forgive for what he did, but an apology? So soon? Was that…regret trying to hide itself away? Oh no, this was too good. He almost wished he had a camera to snap a picture of this.

Wait, no he really did wish he had a camera.

“I brought this for you,” The God reached onto the table behind him, holding something that Wirt knew very well. “I thought you might like it.”

It was his clarinet and sitting behind the God, was his book of poems he was currently working on. He took the clarinet from the God, a huge grin lighting his face. “Wow, thanks!”

The Beast only blinked. “You’re welcome.”

And once again, things were back to being awkward.

_We lead our lives like water,_

_Flowing down a hill,_

_Going more or less in one direction,_

_Until we splash into something,_

_That forces us to find a new course_

He wasn’t sure of how much time had passed; he’d lost track a while ago.

Thankfully, the God didn’t pursue him any further, not in a sexual way, at least. He mostly kept quiet, studying him or playing his piano. He usually played the same haunting tune, and it made Wirt wonder if the God had written the song. He supposed being in a large place like this and having most of the souls afraid of him would make life here pretty lonely.

When The Beast would leave, or whenever he felt like it, he would go visit Beatrice and her family. The God never stopped him, but he always had the slightest inkling that he was being watched from the shadows. Sometimes The Beast would appear in a human like form, a form that most Gods took, or he would appear like a transparent shadow with glowing eyes.

He wondered if his mother and step-father knew he was down in this realm, and a small part of him worried that they didn’t care; that they were glad to see him gone. He knew that was foolish thinking, but as autumn began to slowly change to winter, his doubts of being rescued increased. The more he spent around the older God, the less he felt afraid of him. He hadn’t physically hurt him, though he could make pretty cutting and sarcastic remarks that on occasion would hit close to home.

He wasn’t impossible to live with. He gave Wirt space and didn’t really speak unless necessary or when they would have a rare conversation. Other than that, the days passed by in a slow blur.

Several times Beatrice suggested for him to escape; to leave and go run off somewhere, but they both knew it was wishful thinking. He wouldn’t be able to escape, at least not on his own.

However, things could change at any moment and one day, they did.

He’d been taking a walk with Beatrice and after dropping her off at her home, he had begun to make his way back to The Beast’s home. It still didn’t feel like his home, but it beat standing outside in the cold. He was halfway to the manner when he heard growling from behind him. He froze, turning around with wide eyes to see a pack of eight wolves snarling at him with barred, glistening teeth.

Now if it had just been one wolf, perhaps his chances would have been better. While he was the son of a War Goddess and he knew some self-defense, he was clearly no expert against a pack of eight hungry wolves. So he ran, and while he knew the wolves couldn’t kill him, they could damage him or take a limb from that could take centuries to grow back; depending on the damage.

He wasn’t thinking clearly, not with the creatures snapping at his heels and the branches tearing at his clothes. He had no idea where he was now; The Beast knew The Unknown better than he did and it was quite vast, stretching out for what seemed eternity as more souls entered in and out. From what he knew, this place wasn’t heaven or hell; rather a sort of place where ordinary, everyday people who didn’t do anything particularly bad or good ended up. Still, that didn’t make it any less dangerous for a God. Especially a young God like him who’d only been around for eighteen years.

He had almost forgotten he had turned eighteen years that November, but that thought quickly evaporated when the wolves had cornered him against a clearing. They each took a side, stepping closer as he backed up into a tree. Was this it? How painful was this going to be? He hoped it would be over with quickly and braced his hands up in a defensive stance. Even if he was going to go down, he could at least make his mother proud.

The attack never came. Right as the wolves were about to advance further on him, a shadowy black figure appeared in front of him. He knew it was The Beast; there was no mistaking that but the wolves seemed to be terrified. The Beast didn’t even have to do anything; his presence alone seemed to scare the wolves away.

When the sounds of the wolves’ howls were an echo, The Beast turned to face him. Wirt just stood there, still in shock. “You saved me?” he found himself blurting out loud.

“Clearly,” The Beast replied in a matter of fact tone. “They wouldn’t have killed you; but their bite I’ve heard is quite painful.”

“Good to know,” he muttered, stuffing his hands in his pockets and glancing up at his bonded mate. “Uh, thanks. For saving me.”

“Just try not to let it happen again,” The God replied, extending a hand out to him. “Let us return home.”

He took the God’s hand, surprised that despite looking transparent, it was actually quite warm and solid. They didn’t say anything to each other for the journey to the God’s house, (it still didn’t feel like home) and he found he didn’t really need or want to say anything. When they returned to the manner, he found himself curled up on the sofa of the God’s music room, listening to the sound of the piano and the hums of the God’s haunting yet beautiful voice.

_He was like a song,_

_I’d heard once in fragments,_

_But had been singing,_

_In my mind ever since_

Cernunnos was not a God who felt many emotions and guilt was certainly not one of them.

Yet the nagging, ugly feeling kept crawling back into his skin and it disturbed him more than his newly bonded mate who’d kept crying even after they had sex. He knew he hadn’t taken consideration that the boy was in shock; just being kidnapped and bonded all in one day and then having his purity taken probably wasn’t something he had been looking forward to.

What’s done had been done; he couldn’t undo it. He had felt annoyed that the boy kept crying afterwards, snapping at him a little and then was ignored by the younger God. It didn’t surprise him; little in this world did, but the nagging sensation kept coming back.

“I believe the mortals call it guilt,” Bill commented as they stood in the council room after a meeting. “Don’t tell me you expected the immortal to love you right away.”

“Of course not,” he snorted. “I just thought he had outgrown the crying.”

“Oh trust me, some immortals never do,” Bill glanced over to a few immortals lingering around, as if trying to eavesdrop on their conversation. “I do know, however, that Xiāng Líng is on the war path. Word got out that you bonded with her son and she’s sharpening her blades as we speak.”

He rolled his eyes at that. While the Goddess was formidable and one of the few he actually respected, he did not regret taking her son. “She can’t do anything to me; I’m more powerful than she is.” He wasn’t bragging; just stating a fact.

“True,” Bill nodded, for once actually serious. “But that doesn’t mean she can’t make your life miserable. I certainly wouldn’t want her for a mother-in-law.”

Again, he rolled his eyes at the mortal terminology. The Goddess could be dealt with later; since her son and he had bonded, she was held up by the law. She couldn’t do anything; her son wasn’t living in her realm anymore. She had no jurisdiction over him and was essentially powerless in the situation. He wondered slightly which angered her the most and made a mental note to ask her one day.

Despite the two of them being at odds, he let Wirt have some freedom. He didn’t trust him to leave the realm yet, but he wasn’t going to lock him in their home. The boy had made friends; was able to come and go when he pleased. If anything, they were starting to warm up to each other. Especially after the night he saved him. When he had confronted the young man a few days after their first night as a bonded pair, he hadn’t intended on apologizing. It had come out before he could even realize what he was apologizing for. He hadn’t wanted to cause him too much pain. Pain was inevitable in the situation they were in, after all.

Eventually he would let Wirt visit his family, but only after he had made peace with his situation. He wasn’t expecting a large proclamation of love; a poem maybe, but he wasn’t about ready to tell the young immortal how much he cared for him.

They were sitting on the back porch one late winter day when Wirt suddenly asked him a question. “Hey Beast?” he asked cautiously, looking up from the book he’d been reading.

“…Yes?” he answered back, turning his gaze to the young immortal’s.

Wirt bit his lip, as if afraid to ask the question before letting out a sigh. “Is it true you have another form?”

Well. He certainly wasn’t expecting that question, but seeing as he couldn’t lie very well to his mate, he had no choice really on what to do. “Yes,” he responded calmly and went back to staring at the snow that was slowly, but surely, clearing up to reveal green grass.

“Can I see it?”

Why the young God wanted to see it was beyond him. Whether or not he would be frightened of it; he didn’t know.

_We’re all living an epic tale,_

_Restoring of those who fell,_

_A breathing cathedral of your heart,_

_And it draws me with every breath,_

_Puts path beneath my step,_

_And I’m haunted by how I’m comfortable_

“Can I see it?”

He had wondered about The Beast’s hidden form for a while now, remembering something he’d read in a book a long time ago. It was told that the souls of the lost were added to his body when they could not find their way in the afterlife. He couldn’t imagine how it must have felt for both parties and his curiosity had gotten the better of him. The Beast, if bothered or irritated by his request, didn’t admit it.

“Follow me,” The God stood up, picking up a lit lantern that was nearby and handed it to him. “It will be dark soon.”

They walked for a good while, Wirt wondering where the older God was leading him, but knew that it was better not to ask. He clutched the lantern tightly, trying to keep his breathing steady. The Beast wasn’t going to hurt him, was he? He could do that back at his home and if wanted to, he probably would have done it by now.

A full moon sat above the sky. The Beast stopped in the middle of grove, turning around and shifting into his shadow form. “You may see me,” he spoke in that low voice of his, pointing towards the lantern in his hands.

Wirt lifted the lantern slowly, The Beast stepping into the light and allowing him to see the rumor that was proven to be true. What seemed to be a thousand horrified faces were etched onto his body and Wirt couldn’t tell if he had gasped in shock or horror, but he didn’t care.

The God pulled away from the life, sticking to the shadows again. “Do you regret it?” The God asked, voice almost too soft to be heard.

Wirt just dropped the lantern into the melting snow, stepping towards the God. “No,” he responded firmly and he meant it. Reaching up, he planted a kiss to where a lipless mouth was. Instead of skin, it felt like the wood of tree that had been polished. When he stepped back, he gave a half smile. “I don’t regret it at all.”

_I’ve heard the sound of the ancient hymns,_

_I’ve felt the chills of the cool, cool wind,_

_I’ve tasted the sweet before,_

_Been lost in the beautiful,_

_The powerful mystery of the invisible_

With the coming of spring, the flowers returned and the snow resided.

Though things were far from perfect between them, things had gotten better. They would speak a bit more; have conversations and debate opinions. He wasn’t at all surprised that the God didn’t like his father but was entirely surprised that he held a lot of respect for his mother; even his step-father to a certain degree.

“Your mother could inspire courage to her soldiers,” he explained one evening as they sat outside, watching as the sun sank lower in the sky. “She could be vicious as well; ruthless even. I can remember the enemy’s fear.”

“Was it that powerful?”

“Of course,” The Beast smirked a little. “I was present during a few battles and their fear fed me for eons.”

He tried not to think about it too much and stored the thought away for later when he had alone time. “Don’t you ever get bored here? I mean, you’re rarely at any social events that the council or any other immortal hosted.”

“Isn’t it the same for you?” the God countered back smoothly. “You hate having attention drawn onto yourself from too many spectators. I prefer to remain in the shadows, unseen so I can observe things. Only showing myself to those who I feel are worthy.”

While it could be taken as arrogance, he felt he understood to a certain degree. He too hated feeling a thousand eyes on him and here, he didn’t feel that. He felt at peace here, a lot more peaceful than he had a few months ago and he enjoyed the quiet. While he missed his family and had bittersweet memories of the loudness, he had always preferred things to a bit more relaxed and slow.

“You’re falling in love,” Beatrice commented one day while they were fishing. Well, Beatrice was fishing. Wirt was just adding bait onto the hooks since he never caught anything when he tried. “Are you sure it’s not Stockholm syndrome or something?”

“I don’t think so; I mean, he lets me leave,” he shrugged, and pondered for a moment on if the girl was right. “And he didn’t lock me up and keep me away from everyone. Well, besides everyone I know back home, but I don’t feel an unhealthy attachment.”

“How do you know?” she asked, biting her lip as a fish tugged on the bait. “Maybe he’s luring you in with a song.”

“What?”

She raised a slender eyebrow. “You’ve never heard him sing?”

“I’ve heard him hum. Does that count?”

He winced when she elbowed him sharply. “Don’t be a fool!” she sighed, cheeks turning red. “He has a hypnotic voice; I hear it almost every night. It’s rather annoying, actually.”

“Well he never sings around me,” he commented, watching as she pulled the line up to see what she had caught. He laughed when she let out a rather unsavory word and threw the black turtle back in the pond. “Maybe I should ask him.”

“You do that,” she rolled her eyes, but he could tell she wasn’t being mean about it. “And when you ask him, could you tell him to keep it down?”

“I’ll be sure to ask.”

He didn’t get around to asking right away; opting to listen to one of The Beast’s stories on the ancient days and how different things were back then. He supposed the twenty first century was rather different from the centuries The Beast had seen, but it was none the less fascinating to listen to. When The Beast had finished speaking, he glanced over at him from his spot on the couch. “Hey, Beast, can I ask you something?”

It dawned on him then and there on whether or not the God liked being called The Beast, and he had been meaning to ask him that, but before he even got the chance to, he heard the God’s low voice. “What do you ask?”

“Can you…sing for me?”

The God blinked at him, adjusting his body to face him better. “I had assumed you already knew what I sound like,” he tilted his head. “You’ve never heard my song?”

“Nope. Can’t say that I have,” he laughed nervously, wanting to smack himself for how silly he sounded. “So, can you sing?”

“Only if you play your clarinet for me some time.”

“Fine,” he flushed darker. “But you’ve heard me play it already.”

“I’d like to hear it again.”

The Beast didn’t sing right away. He waited till it was dark out, the fireflies appearing and reappearing like twinkling lights. Then he heard it, a low operatic sound that made his skin crawl with anticipation.

_“Come wayward souls, who wander through the darkness. There is a light for the lost and the meek. Sorrow and fear are easily forgotten, when you submit to the souls of the earth…”_

It was a wonderful melody and he now realized he’d heard it before when the God played his piano. He could feel the ancient power; the terror and beauty his victims must have heard when they came across him. The haunting and dangerous melody that made him want to curl up in a ball and sleep forever. But of course, he wouldn’t do that. It was the effect of his song by the time he was done, Wirt found himself entranced. He had never heard singing like that before; not even from the most skilled Music God or Goddess.

The older God stepped closer to him, a cool hand on his cheek. “Did you like it?” he asked, and Wirt nodded.

“Can you sing some more?”

And he did. That’s how they spent most of the evenings after that, either The Beast singing or Wirt playing his clarinet or reciting poetry from off the top of his head. It was nice and soon, things didn’t feel so foreign. The house didn’t feel so cold anymore and when he would walk back inside after visiting Beatrice or her friend Lorna, whom he’d met a few days after meeting Beatrice, it had begun to feel like home.

“Bill Cipher is getting bonded,” The Beast brought up one day after Wirt had finished reciting a poem. “We were invited to attend.”

The news stunned him; he hadn’t seen anyone in almost a year. Spring was soon changing into summer and the more he thought about it, the more he realized it had been a long time since he’d see anyone. “Oh,” was what he ended up saying. “Are we going or not?”

“We might as well,” The Beast almost shrugged at that. “A lot of immortals are going.”

“Figures,” he let out a snort, The Beast chuckling in amusement. He then pondered over thought in his mind, turning to his mate. “Who’s he getting bonded to anyway?”

“Dipper Pines.”

“What?!”

“I’m just as surprised as you are,” The Beast mocked slightly, chuckling again. “The ceremony is tomorrow.”

Before he knew it, it was tomorrow and they made their way to Bill’s realm. The Nightmare realm was truly a chaotic place, where Dream Gods and other creatures lived. How Bill managed to convince Dipper was a mystery and he would have to ask his friend later on.

The ceremony was grand, if not a bit eccentric. Decorations were everywhere; Bill sparing no expense and a ton of immortals and other creatures were there. From their spot in the front of the crowd, he could see everything. Dipper looked good, dressed in black satin with a golden sash around his waist. Traditional bonding attire, but a triangle was printed on the sash with a single eye on it. Probably Bill or Dipper’s twin sister, Mabel’s, addition to it.

The ceremony didn’t usually last too long; leaving plenty of room for partying. He scanned the crowd for someone he knew and when he stumbled into Dipper, he grinned. “Congratulations,” he smiled softly, The Beast now talking to some other immortal. “I know, it’s been a while.”

“I didn’t believe it at first,” Dipper hugged him quickly, and Wirt swore he almost saw tears in his eyes. “No one could believe you were kidnapped and bonded. It’s…it’s never been done before! Your mom came to Grunkle Ford for help, but even he couldn’t do anything. I, well, we all thought we would never see you again and that the monster was keeping you hostage-“

“He’s not a monster,” he interrupted, with a bit of edge in his voice. He saw Dipper’s eyebrows crease and sighed. “I thought he was at first, but he hasn’t hurt me since our first night together. I don’t trust him yet, but living with him isn’t too bad.”

“He’s not keeping you locked up?” Dipper asked, now confused. “That’s what everyone is saying.”

“Well they’re wrong,” Wirt found himself snapping uncharacteristically, Dipper’s eyes widening slightly. “I have friends in The Unknown, I can leave when I want and he doesn’t say no. I don’t have Stockholm syndrome, if that’s what you’re implying I have.”

Dipper just crossed his arms, glancing over to Bill. “Well, if you’re sure,” he sighed and shook his head. “Anyway, I’m just glad you’re alright. You should go see Greg though; he’s been looking all around for you. Every party, you’re family’s been looking for you.”

His head perked up, heart thumping loudly. “Are they here?” he asked, and a smile broke out when Dipper nodded. “Oh my Gods, thank you!”

He hugged his friend quickly, saying they’d chat more later and scampered off to find his mother, step-father, and brother. He must have run around the ornate golden room several times, stopping by the buffet table to take a breath. He knew the room was big, but he never imagined it would be this big. Finding them could take a while, considering there were many immortals and other creatures here.

“Wirt?”

His heart stopped and dropped ten feet into his stomach. Slowly turning around to meet the dark gray eyes of Greg, still dressed in his green overalls and white collared shirt. The boy stared at him, as if he couldn’t believe what he was seeing. “Greg,” his voice cracked and he dropped to his knees, arms shaking.

For a moment, Greg smacked himself in the face, as if trying to make sense of the situation. His lower lip trembled and he ran into Wirt’s arms, body quivering as he cried. A few spectators stared, whispering to each other and making a few comments, but the two brothers ignored them. Greg’s tears seeped into his shirt and Wirt rubbed his back soothingly. “It’s okay, Greg,” he murmured into his ear, continuing to hug him tightly. “I’m okay, Greg.”

“I…I thought…we lost you…forever!” Greg cried, nose running a little and he pulled back, wiping it with the back of his hand. “It’s my fault for not being a good leader, isn’t it?”

“No, no Greg!” he shook his head, hands reaching to cup his brother’s face. “It wasn’t your fault; don’t think that for a minute! You did what I told you to do and I’m glad it wasn’t you. I’m just glad I get to see you.”

They embraced again, Greg’s cries now dying away slowly. He scooped the child up, seeing as the boy refused to let him go. For a ten year old, he was still quite small; though he had gained a few more inches in height. He could lift him up quite easily, speaking soothingly in his ear. “Where are Mom and David?”

“Near the front,” Greg murmured, pointing to the Northern direction. “They’re looking for you.”

“Then let’s surprise them, shall we?”

“Yeah!”

Still carrying the boy, he maneuvered his way past other immortals, Greg pointing in the direction that he should go. His heart slammed against his chest, more tears welling in his eyes. It was early June; almost a year since he’d seen them. How had they been? How was their home? Did they think he was hurt; believing the rumors that were being spread around?

They were standing near a sculpture of Bill and he winced. They looked nice, but they looked so tired and worn out. His mother’s eyes holding a type of sadness in them that he had never seen before and figured it would only be something he would understand if he had children of his own. He set Greg down on the marble floor, stepping forward softly. “Mom?”

Her eyes met his and she nearly dropped her glass of wine. She and David stared at him like deer; blinking quickly to make sure they were seeing things correctly. His mother practically threw her glass down, running towards him and wrapping her strong arms around him. “My baby,” tears flowed freely down her cheeks and her hands stroked his hair. “I’ve missed you so, so much! I’ve wanted to go after you; I’ve looked everywhere for you! I didn’t know that _he_ had you until a little while ago and you know how we can’t enter realms without the owner’s permission.”

“It’s okay; I’m okay,” he reassured her, but she didn’t seem to believe him. He hugged her back tightly, feeling Greg hug at his legs and David squeeze him on the shoulder. “He hasn’t hurt me,” he told them, his mother still refusing to let go of him. “He’s not keeping me locked in a dungeon or anything.”

“Has he touched you?”

“Well, yeah, I mean it was one time but-“

His mother spat out a nasty word and Greg looked at her in confusion as Wirt winced. She looked down at him as the most embarrassing question came out of her mouth. “You’re not pregnant, are you?”

“What? No, Mom! Gosh, that’s so gross!”

She just let out a wobbly smile and embraced him again, fresh tears staining his shoulders. “You’re still you,” she cried. “This was all your father’s fault! I should have known he’d have a hand in this!”

“Mom, it’s okay,” he tried to reassure her, the two of them pulling apart and he stared into her worn eyes. “I’m not hurt or trapped or anything. He’s not too much of a jerk towards me and it’s not so bad there.”

She stared at him in confusion, as if she couldn’t properly process all this in. “What? You actually like it there?”

“Yeah,” he stated, the realization dawning on him. “I do like it. I liked home too, but The Unknown is not a bad place. It’s starting to feel like home.”

“So,” she trailed off a little, narrowing her eyes. “You’re safe? Happy even?”

“Happy enough,” he smiled, nodding. “I missed you all, but I have really good friends there too. I have my clarinet and poetry and he’s really not that bad. It’s peaceful; quiet. I still wanted to see you and I’ve missed you terribly, but I think things are going to be okay.”

“Walter.”

A new voice broke through the family reunion, the hairs stiffening at the back of his neck. He turned, seeing his father staring at him calmly; eyes testing to see what kind of reaction he would have. Wirt straightened up, staring at him in the eye and responding in a cool tone. “Father.”

They stared at each other for a long time before his father sighed. “You’re looking well.”

“Yes,” he answered, glancing at his mother who was glaring at his father with the utmost rage. “Can I help you with something?”

His father stared at him, a bit taken aback by his cool tone. “Yes,” the older God replied stiffly. “How is your mate?”

It still felt odd when people called The Beast his mate, but he pushed the thought into a corner and resumed to the task at hand. “He is well; why don’t you ask him yourself? You have never shown interest in what I think or say.”

He felt both his parents send a look of surprise at him for that statement, but he stood his ground. “I know you had a hand in this,” he was asking for it, he knew he was but he needed to say this. “You had no business or say in who I bonded with. If you’re thinking I’m going to forgive you anytime soon, then you better think again.”

“I didn’t come here to ask for _your_ forgiveness,” his father sneered at him, staring furiously at him. “I only came to ask you that question and be on my way. I don’t really care what you think or say to me because I know it is not worth my time.”

“And I can happily say that speaking with you right now is not worth my time,” he responded back in a calm, steady voice. “Now if you excuse me, I’m trying to speak to my family. I don’t believe we invited you over.”

“You little-“

He flinched when his father raised his hand slightly; voice dropping a little and breaking the façade of calmness. The strike never came for a pale hand wrapped around his wrist and lowered it to his side. “I would think twice before touching him,” The Beast spoke in a low, threatening tone. “It would be in your best interest to leave, Mortimer.”

With one last glare, his father pulled his hand away from the other God’s and stormed away. Wirt let out a sigh, heart slamming against his ribcage. “I am so dead to him,” he found himself saying and The Beast only shook his head.

“You never meant anything to him,” he stated bluntly and his mother bristled at the comment. “He is not the type of God who cares for anyone but himself and his own goals.”

“You’re right,” Wirt sighed, and he knew it was true. Even as a smaller God, he knew he would never receive the kind of love he wanted from his father; the kind of love David had for Greg and him. “But I don’t need him. I have all of you and that’s enough for me.”

His mother only gave The Beast a look and nodded curtly. “Cernunnos.”

“Xiāng Líng.”

_I can feel, but I can’t touch,_

_The atmosphere of your love,_

_Surrounded by something I know is there,_

_For reasons that I can’t see,_

_What exists is far beyond me,_

_But I will have faith in the unseen_

The seasons passed by slowly, summer changing into autumn and he found himself again losing track of time. He could move freely in and out of the realm, The Beast not stopping him. He visited his family often and would still spend time with Beatrice and Lorna, exploring more of The Unknown. He turned nineteen; a small party had been thrown with his friends and family. Greg met Beatrice and the two took a liking to each other, and though he feared their personalities would clash, he was pleasantly surprised and relieved that they got along.

“Nineteen years,” Bill nudged him and he flinched and from a corner of the room, The Beast narrowed his eyes. “Got anything special planned tonight?”

“No!” he blushed furiously. “We don’t…do that kind of stuff.”

“Really?” Bill actually sounded surprised. “Wow, I thought old Cerny would be all over you.”

“Bill!” Dipper cast his mate a look, motioning his head towards the youngsters that were surrounding Greg and Jason Funderberker. The younger God moved closer to his mate to lean in and whisper something to Wirt. “Bill and I are having a baby.”

“Really?” now it was his turn to be surprised and he patted his friend on the shoulder. “Congrats.”

“Shh,” Dipper brought a finger to his lips. “The others don’t know yet.”

He gave a chuckle and made a locking motion over his lips, indicating the secret was safe with him. The two bonded Gods walked away after that, heading over to where Mabel was chatting with Pacifica, a beautiful Goddess who possibly had hidden feelings for the other Goddess.

He received a few presents, all of which were accepted with appreciation. The Beast had been the last one to give him a gift. An empty book with creamy pages with gold edging and the outer cover was made from polished wood with designs of birds and flowers. “You were running out of room in your other book,” the God spoke quietly.

“Thank you,” he hugged it close to him, ignoring the smirk on Bill’s face. “I like it a lot.”

The guests left as soon as it was beginning to grow dark out. Beatrice and her family waved goodbye as did Lorna and her aunt. He promised Sara and the others as they left to visit them soon and had to promise the same to Greg as his young eyes stared up at him expectantly. By the time they all left, he felt exhausted from all the partying, but made his way up the ornate staircase to the room where The Beast and he would occasionally rest.

The Beast relaxing on the sheets, thumbing through a book and glanced up when Wirt walked into the room. “You had fun,” he stated, putting the book down. “Your mother wants to kill me.”

“She’ll eventually move on. Give or take a thousand years or whatever,” he couldn’t even imagine living that long, yet one day he would be that old. “Did you know Dipper’s pregnant?”

“No,” The Beast responded after a moment of silence, his pale hand taking his and holding in lightly. “If the child is anything like its father…”

“Be nice,” he warned lightly, but shook his head. “How did Dipper end up with him anyway?”

“Bill Cipher is an annoying God,” The Beast muttered. “Young Dipper probably just got fed up with him and agreed to bond with him just so he’d shut up.”

“Hmm,” he murmured, leaning forward subconsciously.

Their lips met and a tingling sensation shot up his spine. They would kiss occasionally, though he always felt a frustrating need afterwards. He placed his hands on his mate’s face, kissing him deeper and opened his mouth. His legs had somehow managed to wrap around his waist, pale arms coming to wrap around his waist to pull them chest to chest.

They spent the next few minutes just kissing, his hands lightly threading through dark blonde hair and the hands around his waist sometimes ghosting lightly over his hips and back. The frustration was still there and he boldly moved forward, hips rocking into the God’s. The Beast seemed to get the idea and he flipped them around, Wirt splayed out underneath him and his finger tracing over his pale face.

He did feel nervous, as if he was a virgin all over again, but he didn’t feel too frightened. The Beast was very intimate, as he noticed so far and took his time as he moved up and down his body. Clothes were removed slowly and a delicious heat was spreading through his body. “Are you sure you want this?” The Beast asked lowly against his ear, hands caressing his body.

He just kissed the older God and brought his hips upwards. This was so different from their first time, which had brought nothing but pain and unwanted pleasure. This time, he wanted to feel it and felt more and more satisfied with each kiss and touch. When the older God finally entered him, he wrapped his legs around his waist tighter and clung to the God’s neck, letting out a soft “Oh.”

They made love several more times that night since neither of them needed sleep and it wasn’t until the early morning rays hit that they stopped, both spent and very satisfied. Since both were creatures who didn’t need to speak much, any gesture of love was welcome. The Beast would sing to him sometimes, or they would just lie next to each other with Wirt in the God’s arms.

The next few months were relatively peaceful and happy; almost like a pattern had been created. Nights and days sometimes were spent talking, enjoying each other’s presence or making love in their room. They did it outside a few times and it had brought a certain thrill to it and he didn’t mind too much the feeling of bark against his back.

Dipper and Bill’s child was born in early August, a little boy with Dipper’s hair and Bill’s eyes. They named him Azael , and Wirt had to admit, he was quite adorable for a baby. The Beast didn’t agree with that; not much to his surprise, but he did have the decency not to say that in front of Dipper and Bill. The last thing anyone needed was for a fight to break out.

It was in very late August, the day before the twins’ birthday that he felt it. For a few weeks now, he’d felt the nausea and the dizziness and instinctively knew what it was. “Beast?” he called out as he strolled through The Unknown, looking for his mate. “Beast?”

The God stepped out of the trees, changing from his shadow form to his human one in an instant. The God stared at him for a moment before his thin lips moved. “Yes?”

“I…I’m pregnant.”

The Beast didn’t say anything; rather he was pulled into The God’s arms in an embrace that was surprising, but not unwelcomed.

One of the rooms was turned into a nursery pretty quickly, furniture their child would need placed in corners. The cradle was the most impressive thing he’d ever seen, carved from wood with birds and other animals carved into it and a small curtain held together by an angel. His family was ecstatic; Greg was the most excited about being an uncle and for days, it was all the twelve year old would talk about. He heard his mother joke to David that she was too young to be a grandmother, but he could see the pleased smile on her face.

He had the slightest feeling that she was going to spoil the baby rotten.

_Let’s go in the garden,_

_You’ll find something waiting,_

_Right there where you left it,_

_Lying upside down,_

_When you finally find it,_

_You’ll see how it’s faded,_

_When you turn it around_

Their daughter was born in mid-April, on a warm but rainy day.

She was so tiny and fragile that he’d been afraid to hold her at first; his mother assuring him that it would be okay and that he wouldn’t hurt her. She wiggled in his arms, and he held her carefully in his arms. She looked like him, he could tell that right off the bat. With his eye shape and dark eyes and his straight nose, she stared up at him calmly, as if reassuring him that things would be alright. From her father, she had his cheek bones and pale complexion, but that was about it for now. When she grew, they could decide later.

He supported her head, fingers feeling her soft dark brown hair that like his could look black at certain angles. “She’s beautiful,” his mother praised, kissing his head softly. “What are you going to name her?”

“Flora,” he said automatically, knowing his mate would be pleased. “I think it fits her.”

“I do to.”

He officially declared Beatrice and Lorna as her aunts, the two girls especially pleased and honored by that. Greg had officially declared himself as the best uncle in the world, vowing to teach her everything he knew and tell her all the embarrassing stories about Wirt when he was growing up. Wirt hoped that he wouldn’t, but who knew with Greg?

His father didn’t officially come over; not that he cared too much, but he felt as if their daughter deserved to have her grandfather in her life. He sent a card with congratulations on it, and Wirt snorted at it. Of course he would do something like this rather than actually visit his only grandchild.

The Beast, having no idea on how to really act around children, was fascinating to watch. He’d put flowers in her room and stand over her crib, smiling when he thought nobody was watching him as the baby girl wrapped a tiny hand around his finger. A smile he would reserve only for her and Wirt on rare occasions.

It was a pleasant June evening as he sat in the backyard, listening to the God sing to the forest and inhabitants of The Unknown. Their daughter lay in his lap, drifting off to sleep at the sound of her father’s beautiful voice. Wirt smiled gently, brushing a hand over her small cheek.

 _“Everything stays, right where you left it. Everything stays, but it still changes,”_ he sang to her softly, not noticing the pause in his mate’s song. _“Ever so slightly; daily and nightly. In little ways, when everything stays.”_

**Author's Note:**

> So yeah, The Beast plays piano. Why the hell not? Well, thanks for reading! I'll be going to my RSVP spot in the line for shipping hell. I have no regrets! The names Azael and Flora were thought of by iPrincessInuyoukai
> 
> Poem 1: http://www.poetrysoup.com/poem/first_encounter_231645  
> Poem 2: http://allpoetry.com/poem/12369413-Poisonous-Footprints-by-Mil%C3%83%C2%A6na  
> Poem 3 & 4: http://hellopoetry.com/poem/1200343/-but-what-do-you-expect-when-your-kidnapper-steals-your-home/  
> Poem 5: http://www.fanpop.com/clubs/poetry/images/20264039/title/dust-time-photo  
> Poem 6 & 7: From Memoirs of a Geisha by Arthur Golden  
> Poem 8 & 9: Mystery of the Invisible by the music group Veridia  
> Poem 10: Everything Stays from Adventure time (it's also the song Wirt sings at the end)
> 
> Images:  
> Beast's hairstyle (It's just what I think; you can form your own opinion): http://trendymods.com/wp-content/uploads/2013/08/Men-layered-hairstyle-with-medium-swept-bangs.png  
> Beast's piano: http://luxurylaunches.com/auctions/ancient_art_cased_grand_piano_goes_under_the_hammer_for_225000.php  
> Flora's crib: https://www.pinterest.com/pin/368732288214351316/


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